Desiree's Diary

May 22nd, 2008

This is one of an occasional series of columns from Desiree,
who is serving an orphanage in the Republic of Uzbekistan, (formerly part of the USSR).
 

05-12-08
I am sure it’s not a surprise, but I am not much of a caring person – there are limits. I tend to lose my patience with people who complain – an occasional complaint is ok, but the never ending grievances and moans just wear me out. Yes, that’s me complaining and that leads me to where I am today. I am irritated at myself; the sort of self-loathing that can either cause in me a reformation or a deterioration.

Here I am living in a land, where people suffer. Where brides self-immolate rather than continue in abusive arranged marriages; where bread and tea are considered a good breakfast. Where sitting outside eating dinner at 9 PM is ordinary, but necessary because of the heat; where teachers, doctors and professionals become moonlighting taxi drivers just to put food on the tables. A place where 70 year-old women with broken hips painfully shuffle themselves to market - all because there is no other option. And they are not complaining.

It’s just life here. These same people (except the mutilated brides – for obvious reasons) invite me into their homes and share everything they have. We laugh. We enjoy each other’s company. We muddle through the language. No cell phone interruptions, no scheduled end time to celebrations. No objective to be met. Even last night after midnight, they offered me a mat to sleep on rather than walk the 50 steps to my own home. I graciously declined.

On one hand, it’s all about appearances here. How you dress, walk, greet, eat, even sleep speaks volumes about who you are. If you don’t do it “right”, you’ll never belong. Yet on the other hand, there’s this incredible depth. Even in their own suffering they will give you what they have. They are not thinking about meeting their own needs tomorrow, but rather about meeting yours today.

I know of brilliant people in America, who can eloquently share their view points on faith, family, politics and economy, but in the end it’s their own voice that resounds. Stating their opinions, like claiming flags, on new found territory. Their own intelligence serves to aggrandize themselves and I am reminded of one philosopher’s quote, “I think therefore I am.”

I thank God that I was born in America I imagine that God knew I was too weak to grow up in a culture that expects difficulties rather than luxuries. It’s not a slam on America, but a reflection on values. As I see it today, Americans value individuality, opinions (some just for the sake of having one), and stuff, lots of stuff.

Here I am in a land without a dishwasher, a car, a dryer. We don’t even have toilet paper that can be flushed. Here I am in a land, where because I am an American, they would send me to the U.S., for adequate medical treatment, rather than suffer as the locals do. Here I am. I join my neighbors and help them carry their trash to the trucks. I greet them daily. I inquire about their families. I grieve with them, celebrate with them. Eat with them. All not because it’s convenient or because it fits my schedule, but because it is here I belong.

I belong, therefore I am.

Desiree'

sponsored by Uzbekistan and Humanity, Inc
(in partnership with People International - www.GoPeople.org)

All contributions can be sent to:

Uzbekistan & Humanity Inc
Box 4224
Mission Viejo, CA 92690-4224